'There is no easy way to say this,' said Boris... Sir Ian Blair tells how he was forced to quit as Met Chief

When Boris Johnson was elected Mayor of London in May 2008 I sent him a text offering my congratulations, and on his second day in office he asked to see me for a private word after a meeting. We spoke for about ten minutes and, tired though he was, I thought he was listening and was interested in the Met.

There was one discordant note. I brought up his use of the words 'trigger happy' during the election campaign, to describe the Met's firearms teams. I thought he was going to have to change his approach to the Met now that he was the Mayor, effectively the principal budget holder and strategist for the service, and soon to be Chair of the Metropolitan Police Authority.

'You will have to praise the achievements of the cops where praise is due,' I said. 'You cannot go on talking down the fall in crime in London, which they have achieved. They need to know you care about them. That way we can work together.'

Power politics: Sir Ian Blair with London Mayor Boris Johnson at his final Metropolitan Police Authority meeting in November 2008

He looked me straight in the face and replied: 'I agree. Look, I know that Ken, the Met and you, in particular, have a good story to tell about crime in London in these last few years but I simply would not have been elected Mayor of London if I had admitted that.'

I understand that politics is the art of the possible but the complete shamelessness of that comment was pretty staggering.

I needed to get to know Boris so, a few weeks later, I went with him to the launch of his flagship policy of strengthening policing on buses. I offered him a seat in my car and, chatting amicably, we drove down to Croydon Bus Garage in South London.

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One of the things Boris had said during the campaign was that he believed the Mayor should have the power to hire and fire the Commissioner. I now explained to him how significant a role the Mayor already had in the selection of a Commissioner, even if not the final say.

More importantly, I said, there had scarcely been a terrorist plot in recent times that had not been connected with London and that if a Home Secretary could no longer appoint the London Commissioner, the Met would cease to be in charge of national counter-terrorism, and London would be a lot less safe.

I found out later, because they talked so freely in front of another Met driver, that his aides were furious that the two of us had spent so long alone and that they had lost control of their unpredictable front man.

People really warmed to both Boris and his predecessor, Ken Livingstone. Both were almost contra-politicians, as far from the mainstream of their parties as possible. But one big difference I noted was the former's lack of interest in detail. Ken had an extraordinary grasp of detail. Not Boris.

I remember being really worried at an early Olympics meeting which he chaired when he was completely outgunned by the representatives of those building the Olympic village. These were men who had built enormous projects across the world, and could find their way round the most complex of budgets. I hope Boris now has someone to do that for him.

Among Boris's chief aides was Kit Malthouse. Until he was elected to the London Assembly, he had been a Westminster councillor and then the borough's deputy leader. He had been very critical of me in a newspaper article, his main charge being that I was too close to New Labour. Boris asked him to look after the policing portfolio.

When I first heard that Assistant Commissioner Tarique Ghaffur was taking legal advice on whether it was appropriate to take the Met to an Employment Tribunal, I also heard Kit wanted him suspended at once.

But later, when the matter of suspension was again raised, I was informed 'that no longer suits us politically, Ian'. I was furious about the introduction of politics into such decision-making.

Exit: Sir Ian Blair addresses the press at his final MPA meeting at City Hall

Later I talked to Catherine Crawford, Chief Executive of the Metropolitan Police Authority and a good friend, and asked her what was going on. 'You must understand,' she said quietly, 'They want you gone.'

For the first time I really thought of resignation. If the MPA was going to behave in a way that set out to undermine me, this would be unsustainable.

The next story broke in July 2008. 'Blair faces call for inquiry after close friend won Met contract', ran one headline. The close friend was Andy Miller, whose company was involved in replacing the computer system for the Met's radio and telephone communications.

The MPA commissioned an investigation into the affair and the subsequent report found no evidence of any wrongdoing by Andy Miller, by me or by anyone else.

Boris's spokesman neatly distanced himself from the row, noting that he 'hasn't had any meetings or conversations about the future of Ian Blair and awaits the outcome of any investigation. He continues to work with Sir Ian in fighting knife crime'.

And after the Tarique Ghaffur situation came to a head in September, when I relieved him of his command, the Mayor issued a statement backing my actions.

I had been the Metropolitan Police Commissioner for nearly four years when I went into Boris's City Hall office for what should have been a routine meeting on Wednesday, October 1, 2008.

That day new legislation had come into force empowering Boris to decide whether he would also wish to be the Chair of the MPA, the body by which the Commissioner is most publicly and visibly held accountable. Boris had decided that he would. The next MPA meeting was scheduled for the following Monday.

Boris's eighth-floor office is dominated by a map of London covering one entire wall. We sat at the long table, with Boris to my right at its head, Catherine Crawford at its foot and Kit and I opposite each other. I was looking towards Tower Bridge. Traitor's Gate was just out of sight.

I noticed that in contrast to his normal somewhat dishevelled look, Boris was rather neat, his hair combed; he was attentive and slightly nervous.

I began by telling them about an injured officer when Boris changed the subject, beginning, 'There is no easy way to say this, Ian', and then talked about a change of leadership at the Met. It took me a full 20 seconds to grasp that he was talking about me and the need for me to step down. My stomach turned over.

Boris suggested that such a change would be best 'for the Met, for London and, frankly, Ian, for you'.

He rumbled on about all the distractions I was facing; contracts and the problems with Tarique, and that it could not be possible for me to continue to be fully effective. There was a dead silence when he had finished.

Controversy: A firm run by Sir Ian's friend Andy Miller, centre, won Met contracts - though there is no evidence of wrongdoing

I eventually said: 'This is very interesting but you don't have the power to do this, Boris.' He said: 'No, but on Monday, I will be asked if I have confidence in you and I will say no. There will then be a vote of confidence and this one you will lose, Ian.'

I said I needed time, to think hard about my duty to the force and about my options; that the Home Office needed to be informed and that I had to discuss the matter with my wife.

Kit said the matter could not wait and I said it had to. I could feel myself getting very angry indeed.

I got up and said: 'I am not ignoring your views and I will let you know tomorrow.'

We firmly agreed that not a word of this was to reach the Press until I had told them of my decision. Boris leapt to the door and asked for someone to escort me out. He had clearly found the whole process unpleasant.

Later that day, I suggested to Kit that in any event I should stay until my successor was appointed.

He said, in front of a startled Catherine Crawford, 'No, that wouldn't suit us politically. We will have an acting Commissioner until a Conservative Home Secretary is elected.'

The phrase was almost the same as he had used about Tarique a few months before. It showed not only how little these people cared about the political independence of the police, but also how determined they were.

At no time did I contemplate the idea that Boris and Kit had dreamed of doing this without informing Conservative Central Office. That has never been confirmed but has been frequently suggested and never denied.

If it is true, then the future of the Met Commissioner and all the constitutional implications of what Kit and Boris had done were in part being used in the private tussle for influence between Boris Johnson and David Cameron.

The following day, I had decided I would resign. I went to see Sir David Normington, Permanent Secretary at the Home Office.

He said he was very sorry but not entirely surprised because the Home Office Press office had just had its first call, asking for confirmation that I was resigning. It seemed City Hall could not even keep that part of the bargain.

I was then called in to see the Home Secretary, Jacqui Smith. She was furious, but not with me. She was decent enough to see it as a personal tragedy for me but shrewd enough to recognise it as a political defeat for her at the hands of Boris and, as we then assumed, Conservative Central Office. She thanked me for all I had achieved.

On my return to the Yard, the Prime Minister called me and said how sorry he was. This was 'a shoddy political stunt', he said.

Boris has never chosen to give me a coherent reason as to why I should step down. The next time I saw him he seemed embarrassed, muttered something about being sorry that he had not yet written to me (he never did), and we moved apart quickly.

I left the Met on December 1, 2008, having spent a lot of my last two months answering an astonishing number of emails and letters, from both inside and outside the service, expressing outrage at what had happened.

The time was full of many kindnesses, but it was far from easy. I had lost not only a job but, more importantly, a vocation, which I would never be able to practise again.

Being in the public eye can be a private nightmare

I first spoke to Gordon Brown when he was Chancellor. He had been giving a speech in London when he spotted me as he was leaving. He came over and sympathised with me over the Press coverage I was receiving.

'Now you know what it is like to be a Cabinet Minister,' he said as he walked away.

He became Prime Minister in June 2007. Less than 36 hours later a large car bomb was left outside a nightclub in Haymarket, London. The following day, there was an attack by two men at Glasgow Airport.

Lonely at the top: Sir Ian Blair with Gordon Brown in 2007

Gordon Brown called me to a meeting of COBR, the Government's emergency committee.

Alex Salmond, leader of the ruling Scottish National Party, appeared on a video screen with his chief legal adviser. There was a terse discussion between the two leaders: the Scots were claiming or, perhaps more fairly, exploring jurisdiction over the incident.

The Prime Minister was having none of it. Policing might be devolved to the Scottish Parliament but counter-terrorism was not. The security of the whole country was at stake. This was UK Government territory. Salmond seemed unsure but Brown was certain.

Much later, in the summer of 2008, my wife Felicity and I were invited to lunch at Chequers by Gordon and Sarah Brown. I had known Sarah before she married Gordon and it was a very pleasant lunch of about eight people.

The Press were being very critical of Gordon and it was obvious that Sarah was hurting for him. At one point Sarah and Felicity were talking about the media pressure and Sarah said, with a wry smile: 'But we all signed up to this, didn't we?'

In many senses Felicity hadn't: she had married a young police inspector, not a Chancellor who was almost certain to become Prime Minister. Nor had Jane Williams, who had married an academic not an archbishop; nor Katherine Gieve who had married a graduate student not the sometimes embattled Deputy Governor of the Bank of England; nor Pippa Dannatt, who married a young officer not the sometimes fiercely criticised head of the Army.

In every dealing I had with Gordon, he was interested, informative and committed. He laughs a lot and is far more at ease with people than is generally portrayed.

But the criticism he'd received in the year between taking office and that lunch was taking a brutal toll. It is a cruel profession.

Questions that led to a friend's downfall

In many ways Andy Hayman was my protégé. I had helped him in his successful application to become Chief Constable of Norfolk, and he was the only police officer I invited to my 50th birthday party: a long weekend in France.

But then, after he became the Met's head of counter-terrorism, something went wrong.

I realised he was spending a great deal of time with the Press. There were rumours that he was briefing in a careless and sometimes disloyal manner.

When there were some Press stories about me, an unnamed senior source at the Yard was quoted as saying we couldn't have a Commissioner who was a 'chump'. The only person I knew who used that word was Andy.

In 2007, an inquiry into the use of corporate credit cards by Met staff showed that his expenditure appeared to be higher than anyone else of his seniority.

Further concerns were being expressed about who had authorised the amount of expenditure on new offices for the Association of Chief Police Officers.

And then in a separate inquiry, the telephone records of a number of people had been examined, including Andy, and it was revealed that, while there was no proof that he had behaved improperly, he had a high volume of calls involving journalists.

Moreover, there was also an extraordinary number of contacts with a former woman Met employee, then working for the Independent Police Complaints Commission, at a time when Andy had been under investigation by them.

(The IPCC found that he had briefed me and his senior colleagues on lines that were inconsistent with what he had told journalists earlier about the shooting of Jean Charles de Menezes. Andy has always denied this.)

I had to act. I called Andy in to see me. My intention was formally to warn him not to use the credit cards for the time being; to make him aware that his contact with the former employee was now known and to ask him to consider whether his relationships with journalists were not capable of damaging his professional reputation. I wanted to keep Andy in post but it was time for a serious discussion.

Then I learned that Channel 4 had put some questions to him that same afternoon about some of the issues on which I needed to talk to him. A little while later he came into my office.

I was shocked. I hadn't seen Andy for a few days, but he looked haggard and unwell. He had two pieces of paper in his hand. He sat down heavily at my table. I asked him if he was all right. He nodded.

I started to outline my concerns. He put up his hand. 'No,' he said, 'I am going to make this easy for you, Ian.' He pushed the pieces of paper across the table.

It was a list of questions from Channel 4 about the 'unusually high' amount of communication between him and the IPCC staff member and about the amount of the expenditure on ACPO offices. A broadcast was intended as soon as possible.

'I have had enough. I am going. I quit. Now,' Andy said.

Martin Tiplady, my head of human resources, and I tried to reason with him but he would have none of it. We suggested he sleep on it or take sick leave but he would do neither.

He announced his resignation within minutes and was gone the next day. Andy has never admitted any wrongdoing, and the MPA never instigated formal discipline proceedings against him.

Apart from a brief meeting the next morning, we have never spoken again.